


Up On Melancholy Hill

by bruzzahquirk



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, Armageddon, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruzzahquirk/pseuds/bruzzahquirk
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are locked out of their respective homes, forced to defend themselves against the newly arranged apocalypse.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 8





	Up On Melancholy Hill

The Apocalypse? That was rich.  
What had happened six years ago had nothing on what was happening now. Those who believe in Creationism are only half right. God created many things. She created man and the creatures of the earth and sea and, of course, the earth and the sea.  
Did she create everything?  
No.  
At least, Crowley hoped she didn't willingly choose to unleash the abominations that had been popping up every which way into the world. He didn't particularly like Heaven, or God, but he had a bit of an inclination towards believing that whoever had made this beautiful world wouldn't do something so horrendous to destroy it.  
But then, he had seen God level the world 3500 years ago with an all-encompassing wave. He for sure hadn't needed that in his life again. Yet here he was, trapped in a tangible web of untruths with an angel who didn't deign to speak to him much anymore. Or at least that's how it felt, even if he knew it wasn't personal.  
There was a silence between them, but Crowley couldn't decide if he should describe it as 'troublesome' or 'expectant' or perhaps just 'awkward'. Aziraphale was the bookish one, after all.  
As he strolled down the aisle, he gave the bare shelves another once-over, not expecting much to have changed. They had taken refuge from the outside world inside an abandoned gas station six hours ago and Crowley hadn't slept a wink. Oh, he was exhausted alright, but the freezing laminate floors, even with the warmth of Aziraphale's wing draped over him, did not call to him as it should have after everything that had happened.  
The tense silence had nothing to do with their friendship, their relationship, or whatever they bloody had, but rather had more to do with the imminent danger they were facing, though neither of them knew exactly when and where it would manifest itself.  
Soon seemed about right.  
Crowley sighed heavily and wandered further down the narrow aisles, keeping an eye on the windows three metres away. Nothing stirred beyond the fogged plexiglass, but he didn't want to trust it. He didn't trust much at all these days, honestly, beyond himself.  
Having the urge to piss, he ambled towards the bathroom, dodging the empty pop bottles and pastry wrappers strewn about the ground. Knocking on the door, though it was technically a public restroom and had multiple stalls, was second nature, purely because though he was a selfish bastard (and a demon at that), he was not a pervert. People deserve privacy, even in the end of times.  
And as much as he cared for Aziraphale, to be frank, he'd rather not hear his bathroom habits. There was really no telling what he did in there.  
A soft voice like the tinkling of silver bells called, “Occupied! One moment, please!”  
Crowley rolled his eyes.  
The angel was being polite, even now. How utterly typical.  
He tugged at his red ponytail as he sat on the painted metal bench to the left of the doorway. It had grown out quite a bit, the sides nearly reaching the tops of his ears and the top way too long for his liking, and he had taken to pulling it back into a bun or a tail so he could forget his lack of scissors and shampoo.  
Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them into his lap, sighing heavily as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was stressed, more so even than last year when Adam had started university and he had to physically restrain himself from following after the tiny gray bus in the Bentley. Aziraphale had to help him take deep breaths so he wouldn't have a stroke and discorporate. “It'll take a bit of time – and so much paperwork! – to find a new body,” Zira had said, “and I know you rather like the one you have, so please calm down, will you, dear? Besides, his biological father is Satan; don't you think he has a much better chance than the humans at university?”  
Godfathers indeed.  
But now Crowley was stressed over something less frivolous in nature: the fate of the earth. Which was their responsibility. Again.  
Funny that the job rested on them, instead of the Creator and the Deserter.  
As he mused upon this, Aziraphale appeared, his pale skin and paler hair glistening with beads of water from his apparent washup. Good thing he hadn't walked in, then.  
He looked around and when his bluebonnet eyes landed on Crowley, they lit up like stars and the skin around his eyes crinkled and his lips turned up and split open, like a head, like a heart. It stole the demon's breath away. “Hello, dear! The restroom is free now. I apologize for the wait.”  
Crowley swallowed past the words he wanted to say (“You are so beautiful” “Call me that again” “I like waiting for you”) and said tightly, “It's alright, angel. It's only been a moment, anyhow.” He stood, his long legs unfurling like the petals of a flower, and shoved his glasses back onto his face. “I'll be just a minute, then we gotta do inventory.”  
He was half-tempted to sidle past Aziraphale, maybe brush his hand along his side and ultimately claim it an accident. It was funny, really, how much the angel tempted him. Funny-stupid, not funny-haha.  
“”I’ll start dividing up the supplies.” Aziraphale paused, then murmured timidly, “You, ah… didn’t see…?”   
“No,”” Crowley said firmly. “I didn’t see any of those nasty flesh-eaters out there. For now at least. It’s only a matter of time before they smell us.” He looked down.

Zombies.  
Crowley had watched so many movies at the cinema that he should’ve known at the first sign what they were.  
Should’ve, but didn’t.  
The thing about zombie flicks was they all had one thing in common: whatever caused it was so fast to spread that some people didn’t even know the Apocalypse had started when they got bit.  
All they knew was Uncle Bob got a sudden taste for flesh and bit everyone at the family reunion.  
Crowley, for example, had been holed up in the bookstore with Aziraphale, yelling his head off.  
“They fucking locked us down here - up here, whatever /bloody/ fuckin’ way it is - and they expect us /not/ to be upset?!” He has raged. Aziraphale had looked at him gravely. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now, is there?”  
Crowley had known it was a rhetorical question, but answered regardless. “Not - /Angel/. Come on. You just got bloody /locked out of Heaven/. Literally.”  
Aziraphale had nodded slowly, looking down into his cup of tea.   
Crowley had continued, “And you’re not the /einsiest/ bit upset about that?”  
The angel had been silent a moment and when he looked at Crowley, his blue eyes had churned with a holy kind of anger. “Yes. Yes, I am.”  
Well, that had effectively shut him up.  
Within an hour, their radio had spouted, “deranged men and women on an international cannibalistic killing spree” and Crowley had sighed heavily, looked at Aziraphale, and they said, together, with a bone-deep tiredness in their voices, “To the world.”

Now, Crowley finally looked at Aziraphale, remembering that other-worldly rage where now there was only fear, and said quietly, “ We will defeat them, angel.” Aziraphale smiled thinly and nodded before shuffling off to the back room.   
“I’ll make it safe for you again,” Crowley added silently as he watched him leave. “You’ll have your quaint little bookshop with odd business hours and the chance to live forever in peace. I’ll make that happen.”  
Aziraphale turned the corner and Crowley, alone in the hallway, murmured, “Because I love you.” He turned to watch out the window for a long moment, then ducked into the bathroom to relieve himself.


End file.
